What's Our Destiny?
by Martucch
Summary: Dedicated to SkyWorld of Kabu


The Prince looked at him with a grin, arms folded, flying about fifteen meters from him. Goku suddenly had a flashback, recognizing in that figure silhouetted against the sky a memory that was branded in his memory: their first clash. Vegeta looked at him with that same expression, that same posture, that same distance, in a position above his own, symbol of his obsessive need for control, for supremacy.

Many things had changed: Vegeta no longer had a tail, his battle suit had been cleaned of all the frills that Freeza had given him and both were much, much more powerful. Defeating Majin Bu had once again taken them beyond their limits. But for the Saiyans there were no limits, only barriers to beat and overcome. The two of them were living proof of it, even though they were like day and night: it was the proof that the competition and the unstoppable thirst for combat lived in their blood.

"How much longer do you want to be there with that idiot face? If you want to beat the slack, tell me immediately, I'm not going to throw away a whole day of training because of you! "The grin had disappeared in that short period of time, leaving room for the historical expression furious and full of contempt of Prince Vegeta , of which Goku was the greatest collector, the most frequent recipient.

The peaceful Saiyan smiled calmly.

"I was just thinking back to when we first met, do you remember? The environment was similar, nothing but rocks! I managed to convince you to go to an isolated place, mayb... "

"STOP IT! Give me a break with all these damn nonsense! How does it occur to you to dig up that event, MINE defeat right at the start of a battle? "

Son of a bitch. Bastard. He had done it on purpose. Remind him of his greatest humiliation, of being defeated by a third-class warrior, among other things mentally retarted. He clenched his fists so hard that the gloves produced a loud friction noise. The muscles of the arms stretched dangerously, the vein on the temple began to throb unabated. The beginning of everything. That was the beginning of everything. And also the end.

Goku frowned, raising his arms and palms upwards, shrugging: "But ... but it wasn't for that ... it just occurred to me, it's all so simil...".

The Saiyan did not have time to finish the sentence: the Prince teleported lightning in front of him, giving him a powerful kick to the face, hurling him to the side at an unheard-of speed, so that Goku stuck against a rock wall, disintegrating half of it.

Vegeta was immediately upon him, clutching his hand tightly against his neck, cutting off his breath as he held him firmly anchored against the rock face. Goku half opened his eyes with a sob, just having time to see the sadistic grin of the other, before receiving a strong discharge of punches in the stomach, fast, merciless. Vegeta struck him relentlessly, feeling his opponent's abdominals contract, a sign that perhaps he had finished being dumbfounded like a fool. It was like hitting a steel plate with a hammer.

"Come on, Kakaroth ! If you go on so much, I might as well train myself with Mr. Satan! "

The Prince doubled the speed of his fists, tightening his rival's neck more, which in the meantime had changed expression, with an amused smile, typical of his own, as he looked at him with narrowed eyes for the effort to resist that homicidal fury.

Suddenly Goku disappeared, making Vegeta lose his balance, which crashed the last of his powerful blows against the rock, disintegrating it completely. He did not have time to turn around that Goku hit him in the back, with his palms together, hurling him against the ground.

Vegeta forced his forearms to rise quickly, turning and grinding his teeth, trying to see the rival among all that dust.

He narrowed his eyes, seeing in the brown cloud of the tiny flashes, one after the other: he immediately understood, dodging some of those very rapid ki-blasts, sweeping away others, but without succeeding in avoiding the last one, which exploded on him.

Back on the ground, he felt a blind fury rising inside him: the same as ever, the same as his whole life. The shame of not being the father's pride, of being Freeza's slave, of being inferior to Goku. That of all the defeats that life had offered him, depriving him of the ability to enjoy his rare successes, like Trunks. A grip on his heart took him, so strong that he caught his breath, more than all those shots had done.

He exploded in a scream, desperate, frustrated, furious, murderess. He clenched his fists as his aura began to grow exponentially, sweeping away the remaining dust that still floated around him. A blazing golden light enveloped him, beginning to make the ground tremble beneath his feet, opening cracks, lifting the tiny limestone fragments scattered on the ground.

A powerful wind began to penetrate his hair, stirring the edges of his ragged suit; his gloves tightened as his musculature increased, and his jet black hair turned golden as pure light.

From a distance, Goku watched him transform himself, following his every movement, noticing his every change: the suit stretched more and more, the gashes grew bigger; that light that surrounded him seemed to be penetrating him directly into the thick, towering hair.

His furious cries he had heard millions of times, and it was impressive how many times he had been able to bring the cause back to himself. He breathed deeply, observing with his eyes Vegeta and his power, his unmistakable profile and the masterful composure he knew how to maintain with natural elegance, even in the grip of his most sordid, strong and unhealthy emotions.

He closed his eyes, remembering how he had done so many years ago that Vegeta hated him. The most serious, unforgivable, indelible thing that had hurt his mad pride was to become a Super Saiyan before him.

That was the real break, the greatest distance that Vegeta had ever taken from him, deciding to hate him and despise him forever.

He had never seen anything that reflected such a strong, lasting, eternal feeling as the hatred Vegeta felt for him. Perhaps only the love he felt for Gohan and Goten approached us. But he hadn't had that same coherence.

Vegeta had never given up, and although the story of Majin Buu had approached them in some bizarre way, he was perfectly aware that basically he was only a blind hatred pushing the Prince towards him, against him.

He clenched his fists too, thinking of the wasted time, thrown out of all those years spent standing against each other: the impossibility of asking Vegeta about his origins, to find out more about both, to do a thousand other things ...

An impenetrable wall had always been among them. And yet, there had been those rare, very rare occasions when they had united in order to win, in which they had united and enough.

Goku saw the Prince shoot upwards at a supersonic speed, finding himself in front of his face in a few seconds. Glacial, deadly blue eyes stared at him. For a minute that seemed like a year, they looked at each other: Vegeta's grimace of anger, against one of the most serious expressions Goku had ever dedicated to him. A look of melancholy, nostalgia for a non-existent past, of desperate and silent suffering that did not know how to be allowed to go, in those many remorse and regrets that enveloped the imaginary that had of the life of both.

But Vegeta was blind, he didn't want to, he couldn't read that look, those still black eyes that didn't know how to reach his own, cold and furious at the same time. He had his thoughts, his emotions, made of anger, hatred, frustration and pain; he would never leave room for those Kakaroth could feel.

He raised his arm, loading a deadly fist, ready to unload on him as much power as his body was ready to unleash.

At that moment Goku reached his face, taking him in his hands, kissing him with closed eyes, an urgent and silent kiss together. He pressed his lips to his, squeezing his hands imperceptibly around his face, as if not letting him go, running away, and not wanting to annoy him at the same time, not giving him the impression of invading his precious, unapproachable spaces.

It was simply a kiss that he knew what he was going at, but that didn't matter.

Vegeta remained with his fist in mid-air, his eyes wide, his eyes reduced to a slit. That was not their first kiss. There had been so many, each one different from the other. Kisses of passion, anger, despair, demanding, overbearing, violent and soft. A movement of frustration tangled his stomach, but it took too long to detach from that mouth. Even a second was too much.

He pushed him away violently, grinding his teeth, clenching his fists: "You ... you don't have the slightest respect ... in the midst of a challenge, for the umpteenth time, you ...!" But it wasn't always Goku that started, indeed ... Vegeta had seen start that scene on his own self more than once. With the same urgency, the same fervor, but with much more desperation.

"You don't give a shit, this is the truth! You never gave a shit, and you showed it all these years! You always pretended to forget about our challenge, or you always interrupted it, you never took anything seriously from that first fight in which I was about to kill you! You never considered me a threat again! But you're wrong! I am not, I AM NOT LOWER THAN YOU ".

An unreal silence flooded that desolate and deserted plain after that terrifying scream. Vegeta trembled in every fiber of his body, squeezing his gloved fists spasmodically, clenching his teeth so hard that Goku could hear them screech between them.

When he had had that heart disease, he felt stabbing pangs in his heart every day, which took his breath away. It were not comparable to those that were unleashed every time he saw Vegeta like that, realizing that he was the cause. He had always thought that sooner or later he would get sick, experiencing all that rage and fury in such a visceral, so profound way. And this terror never left him, he knew that one day or another his pride would kill him.

"I know, Vegeta ... I never ...".

"I hate you".

Another silence, but less unreal. To tell the truth, Goku didn't even seem able to hear the silence. He could only hear a long, long whistle in his ears. He wanted to swallow, but he couldn't. He was still, his forehead tense, his eyes fixed on those of the Super Saiyan. He felt the lack of those punches in the stomach, much lighter than he was feeling at that moment.

As if the Prince had read his mind, Goku take a punch in his face, looking away from Vegeta. Better this way. They had always been better with gestures than words. In words they did nothing but hurt each other: Goku without realizing it, just as he had done before; Vegeta vomiting all his contempt on him.

Suspended in mid-air one in front of the other, the one wrapped in a golden aura, the other with the eyes turned downwards, the hair still black.

Out of the corner of his eye, Goku saw the Prince's fist charge, and he closed his eyes, ready to take in again, feeling he was wrong again: he would have to fight, this was what Vegeta wanted, what he had always wanted, and at the bottom even Goku wanted. The only time when both were perfectly in harmony.

"I hate you…"

Vegeta's fist did not arrive, turning into an open hand on his neck, which pushed his face towards his, meeting him again in another kiss, less cautious and wary than the previous one. Impetuous and hard, insatiable and needy like the other, but in a different way.

Goku had let himself be guided by that hand, surprised and still focused on the sentence pronounced by his Prince. Vegeta had often been described as moody, but there were synonyms much more apt to describe his personality: complex, stubborn, proud, overbearing, competitive, indomitable.

Yet Goku was sure he had explored hidden traits of his character, of his person over the years. Perhaps even more than Bulma ever did.

After all, he had always been on his side: ever since he had stopped Crillin from killing him, without knowing that the Saiyan would forever be part of his life from then on. He had always been attracted to him in one way or another: anyone felt revulsion for Vegeta, but Goku didn't; whether for his stupidity or for other reasons he had never been clear even to himself.

Vegeta was the only link that remained to him with a planet and a race he had never known, but that belonged to him as much as the Earth. Probably even more, even though he had often been afraid to think about it: the idea of being a ruthless, bloodthirsty warrior, without any scruples like Nappa, Radish and Vegeta himself repelled him. He knew he was not like that, and at the same time he was often worried, knowing he was unfit for his lineage, of being unfit for his Prince, of deserving his contempt.

It was a half creature. Halfway between the Earth and the Planet Vegeta. He had taken the best of both worlds, yet he could not understand what he belonged to.

As he felt Vegeta's tongue wrap around, his smile came to him: who knows what his rival would have said in knowing that Goku was able to make thoughts that went beyond elementary.

But Vegeta noticed the fold that had taken his lips, and he opened his eyes detaching himself from him: "What have you got to laugh about?" He asked brusquely. Now did it make him laugh even how he kissed him? In what else did he want to humiliate him? How could he eliminate any form of respect for him?

Goku suddenly blanched, starting to shake his hands, trying to deny that impression. Today he didn't make a right one.

"No, no, I was just thinking that ... that you never told me about our planet. Really, nothing else ". He gave a pacifying smile.

Vegeta stared at him as his hair quickly returned to black, as did his eyes. Looking at him, he was convinced that this must be the truth: Kakaroth was so stupid that he would not have been able to concoct a lie even if he had been forced. Who knows what a hallucinatory journey his thoughts had made to reach a similar conclusion.

Vegeta let himself go, putting his arms crossed, slipping lightly towards the ground, followed shortly after by his companion, surprised at not having provoked his outburst.

He had asked him many times for details, curiosities, particulars of their world that he had tried to imagine many times, but that Vegeta had always denied him, almost out of spite, as if to maintain an advantage over him.

In fact, the Prince felt a surge of pride and knockdown together in knowing that he was now the only one to guard the truth about their people. Who better than he could hide those secrets? The last of the Saiyan royal line still alive.

He had been alone for some time now. Him, and that tiny third class.

He looked at Goku who had landed next to him, with a contemptuous grimace in noting that the serious air he had seen earlier had disappeared, leaving room for his usual naive, childish, curious and terribly stupid expression.

"We had two suns. And our sky was red, unlike this ".

Goku held his breath, not believing his ears. He was really telling him about it.

"The gravity of our planet is ... it was ten times that of the Earth. You will now understand why I was so comfortable in the Gravity Room. Or do I have to explain it to you? ".

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, looking at him sarcastically, still with folded arms, while Goku put his hand to scratch his neck, as usual when he tried to defuse a thorny situation.

"Even me could understand this!" He proclaimed victorious "Did you know my father?"

Vegeta frowned, annoyed and displaced by the candor of such a personal question: "How do you want me to have known him? A warrior of such a low level could not even approach the royal family. Already having your brother Raditz as a subordinate was frustrating and unsatisfactory! "

He looked sideways at the adversary, trying to understand if his words, so raw and sharp, had had the desired effect, some sort of shame in coming from such an insignificant warrior. In this Vegeta did not fear rivals: he was the king's son, the greatest that the Saiyans had ever had.

But Goku was lost in thought, staring at the sky with an absorbed, thoughtful air.

Vegeta snorted sarcastically, with a grunt annoyed "You look even more idiotic than usual ... what the hell are you thinking?".

Goku turned to him, blinking twice before letting go of a chuckle: "Oops! I was dazed! Is that there is one thing I never told anyone ... "

The Saiyan approached Vegeta with a smirk, with a cupped hand near his mouth; the Prince on the other hand loosened his folded arms,leaning backwards with his pelvis, on guard, wondering what that sudden search for closeness was. Goku's breath spread in his ear, while his heart pumped blood faster, making it reach his cheeks, which turned purple.

"Ka ... Kakaroth ... What the fuck ..."

"I saw my father," he said simply, still with that smile, like someone revealing a secret kept for so long.

Vegeta calmed those unwanted and inevitable sensations, peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, intrigued and doubtful at the same time: "What do you mean?"

Goku nodded, deepening his smile: "He appeared in my mind once, to incite me to defeat Freezer, revenge us all. It was the same as me, had it not been for an ics-shaped scar on his cheek. But it seemed a real tough guy! A bit like you, Vegeta! "

Vegeta was staring at him as the vein on his temple began to throb again, after a rare moment of pause. Goku raised an eyebrow, staring at him questioningly: oh, what had he done now? Which Vegeta's exposed nerve had touched? How else had he bothered him? Sometimes it seemed to him that whatever he said, he could do nothing but irritate Vegeta, make him angry, make him suffer.

As if he himself was a disease for the Sayan.

"What's up…?"

A deep, slow breath filled Vegeta's chest as his eyes hardened. His father had never looked for him after his death. It had never occurred to him. No spur, no encouragement, absolutely nothing at all was ever derived from King Vegeta. But, basically, not even in life.

He had always had to go it alone, for him it was a duty, not just a natural characteristic of the Saiyan people. More than the others he had to refuse any kind of help, he who would one day have to govern an entire planet.

The reason, however, was not to be this: the reason was that he had surely disappointed his father. He had failed in everything: the defeats that had marked his pride with profound furrows were innumerable. Goku had been only the most burning, the most shameful, the most difficult. Because they were potentially equal: same race, a few years later (at least as far as the Saiyans were concerned), the same push to fight.

It was not the same as comparing himself to Cell, to Majin Buu, to any enemy. It was different: he should have won with him. He should have been naturally superior.

Obviously his father had nothing to say to him. Probably just insults; the silence, however, was worse than any epithet or offense.

"Hard to have an idiotic expression like yours," he said only.

Goku looked at him for a few seconds, puzzled by that answer, before starting to laugh, scratching his neck again, relieved by that lightening of tones, knowing however that the truth had not been told to him by his rival.

"Eh, I have to agree with you! He was definitely more serious than me! "

Vegeta, looking at him with that childish and serene expression, could not help but be infected by a little smile, shaking his head slowly: he would never have changed. Despite all that they had been through, the horrors and wars, Goku was always there with that laugh, that expression, that way of doing that he could never have made his own.

Goku manage to let his guard down. He had succeeded over and over again, over the years, without even realizing it: he had changed it more than he would have been able to admit. He, Bulma, Trunks, had changed him profoundly, filling him with terror every time he dwelt on that thought: his transformation into Majin Vegeta had shown him more than any word or gesture. The desperate attempt to return what was and always had been, far from values like family, friendship, goodness. Fuck. Even now, if he thought about it, he could not help but have a crisis of conscience.

How was it possible to change so much?

It was the same thing Goku was thinking at that moment, watching Vegeta melt into that ironic but true smile. When he had saved him, preventing Crillin from killing him, it was what he had always hoped, desired: he really wanted Vegeta to be saved. That he forgot all that hatred towards himself and others, towards him, that he could go beyond his own traumas, his own pains, what had been life for someone like him.

This is why he always managed to forgive him everything. Because the reality had been tougher with him than with anyone else. Son of a glacial and distant father, slave of a tyrant, defeated inside and out by so many enemies. Goku included.

A grip on his heart seized him: he had done everything to be able to approach him without hurting him and remind him of his failures every moment. But nothing could change the fact that Vegeta would never have defeated him, and that both knew it. A tacit awareness reigned among them, the same one that testified the fact that Vegeta would never give up. Never.

"How is it possible that you are so different from us and so similar to them?" The Prince asked him, asking the world more than Goku himself, frowning in an attempt to find an answer. In reality Goku was not so similar even to terrestrials. He was different from everyone.

The Saiyan looked up, placing his finger thoughtfully in front of his mouth, in a moan of reflection.

"Mmh ... I remember my grandpa always told me that I was terrible when I was very small. Rebel and violent. One day I fell into a ravine, beating my head hard. Maybe it's connected, what do you say Vegeta? I don't remember anything of my bad temper, after all ".

The Prince, with a sarcastic grin, approached him, bending his head to look at him: "You've taken too many beatings on your head, evidently there is no limit to the worst. As a child you will have been a genius compared to now ".

He raised his right hand in front of his face, while a tiny, luminous sphere of energy began to grow on his palm, dangerously close to Goku.

Vegeta's grin deepened: "Let's see if we can even kill the last neuron."

The ki blast started at great speed, finding the path free in front of him: Vegeta suddenly turned around, crossing his arms to parry a kick from Goku at the last moment, teleporting behind him.

He too now smiled with challenge, putting his hands in a position that the world had learned to recognize as his distinctive move: the Kamehameha.

Vegeta rose into the air, until it formed a perfect diagonal respect to his opponent, exploding with a laugh of excitement as he charged his shot, in a precise viewfinder: "Galick ..."

"KAMEHAMEHA !"

"... CANNON !"

An immense light spread from the two energy blows, which collided with each other, giving rise to an exponential sphere of energy, which only increased with each new contribution of strength by the two Saiyans. The screams continued and grew, as did the flow of the two waves, in an energy that seemed infinite.

The umpteenth challenge to which both gave life, one against the other, without anything in the world that existed until that moment. Everything disappeared except the two of them.

The meeting of the rays unraveled at its maximum power, raising a quantity of dust that could constitute a sandstorm, until the light swallowed everything, in the peak of energy of the two flows, finally exhausted.

Goku was panting, holding his left arm with his right, peering through the dust at the long-limbed figure of his rival, unable to find it. His eyes were frowning, but he was smiling, excited, pleased by that showdown.

A workout with him never disappointed. For this and a thousand other reasons.

"Wow, Vegeta! You trained a lot, huh? I hadn't seen you doing that move for centur... "interrupted again, Vegeta's face in front of his, with eyes closed, kissing him, reaching him in a lightning-fast transporter.

Both Saiyans fell to the ground, raising even more dust, almost disappearing into it.

Vegeta encircled him behind the neck, while Goku wrapped his waist in his arms; a voracious, overbearing, instinctive kiss, inspired by the excitement of that battle, by that discharge of energy that still ran through them.

The Prince seemed to want to devour him, gave him no respite in that meeting of lips, of tongues, which Goku indulged without ever withdrawing, knowing the impulsiveness of the Saiyan, his voracity. As in food, even in sex: none of them was ever full.

Goku slipped his fingers under his tight battle suit, lifting it upward, uncovering his back in a caress, feeling the warrior's ridges rub under his palms. Vegeta was much slimmer than he: he was slender, perfectly proportioned, much more compact than he was, without having less muscle tone for this. For a time he thought it was just an illusion that gave the battle suit, adherent as it was, before feeling with hand that they were different in this one too.

When the vest was lifted, he felt Vegeta stiffen, holding his breath, like a cat raising its hair and lowering ears, warningly, without, however, moving away from his lips. Goku, however, in one way or another, always took him beyond his limits. It was his unconscious specialty.

He quickly took off his undershirt, detaching himself from his lips for an instant, which Vegeta swiftly canceled. He went down again, slipping his fingers under his pants, meeting nothing but the hot skin of the warrior, the perfect and firm curve of his buttocks under his fingertips. At the exact moment he began to tighten, Vegeta gripped his wrists in a vise, slamming his arms back, nailing his hands into the ground.

"NO!" He ordered, looking straight into his eyes, grinding his teeth. The blush on his cheeks was obvious though, but whether it was anger or shame, Goku could only suppose it. Things were so faint with him sometimes.

Goku spread his hands, as if in a quiet, patient sign of surrender: he knew the rhythms of Vegeta, his signals, but he did not always follow them and indulged them. At all.

The Prince held him for a few seconds, staring at him grimly, before leaving his hands, insinuating his ownfingers into Goku's black hair, identical to his own, attacking his lips in what was not a kiss but a bite: his teeth clenched on the lower lip of Goku, who narrowed his eyes in a surprised gasp. He was putting him back in his place, he was punishing him, he was angry because he liked him too much, was he starting their perennial fight again? Or simply that was Vegeta; a mixture of everything, or simply its "way".

Goku gritted his teeth, feeling the taste of blood, his own, on his tongue; the Prince, satisfied, stretched his lips in a sneer, while the opponent's blood ran down his jaw.

Goku opened his eyes again, frowning, and stubbornly, recklessly, lowered his hands again on Vegeta's buttocks, concentrating this time on the area of the sacrum, where the tail grew back: difficult to find a more sensitive area than that, as far as they were concerned.

The moment his rival opened his mouth to protest, Goku began to massage that precise point with his thumb, cutting off Vegeta's breath, forced to close his eyes and clench his teeth to mask that uncontrollable shiver that was possessing his back.

"Ka ... Kakaroth ... stop ... stop you damn..." he clenched his fist, closed in his white glove, before planting it next to Goku's face, which did not stop, but rather continued the torture with circular movements. Vegeta arched, as if to go closer to that hand, incoherent with his thoughts, his words, his expression. This was enough for the other Saiyan: he slid his hand further down, inserting his forefinger into his slit, until he found the more hidden side of him, slipping inside him decidedly, attentive to every rival's contraction.

Vegeta's eyes widened, exploding in a groan, before biting his lips in blood, in an imperative interruption of that move: Goku smiled at that gesture, noting how some things between them never changed; there was always a wall that the Prince pulled up between them, never letting go completely, without ever giving it to him completely.

Vegeta immediately stopped arching his back, but was unable to make him come out completely of himself, pressing his hands firmly on his chest to get away; but Goku preceded him: he grabbed the arm with which he was pushing him firmly, reversing their position in a flash, finding himself above the warrior, entering him more forcefully, so much that the Prince could not help but hold another groan, followed by increasingly uncontrolled gasps, whenever Goku repeated the movement, inside and out.

He lowered himself on his throat, resting his hot lips on it, feeling his smell, his breath, his sweating hot skin, remembering every battle he had recorded those details. Vegeta pushed his face away from him, trying to move away, pressing his hand on his shoulder to send him away, but did nothing to tighten his legs.

"Vegeta ..." Goku said, frowning, as if in a reproach, feeling him however more and more relaxed in that ring of muscles, feeling his erection press against the battle suit, evident, irrepressible. He decided to indulge that hand on his shoulder that pushed him away, but lowering himself: the Prince didn't notice, stubbornly busy keeping his eyes closed, tight, before opening them wide to feel his erection free from the suit, but immediately received in Goku's warm , wet mouth.

"AH!" Exploded, going with his hands to tight his shoulders, in yet another attempt to control him, to be master of the situation, of him, of himself. Ridiculous. Even when he sucked his dick, he couldn't feel in control of the situation.

No. It was too much. Kakaroth shouldn't have dared, he must not dare: how he allowed himself to use that reproaching voice? The same one Vegeta used when he let his selfishness free, his contempt, when he criticized his pathetic sense of sacrifice, so shamefully out of place for a Saiyan.

He grabbed him by the hair, squeezing hard, almost to tear them off, so that Goku couldn't help but rise, leaving him free again.

"S-stop idiot! Don't you dare ... to use that tone ... "he was glaring at him, but his pupils were too dilated, his breathing too sharp, his face too hot to be able to intimidate the other.

Goku stood still for a few seconds, coming out of him, feeling in his mouth contrasting flavors: the sex of Vegeta and his own blood, where he had bitten it. He knew them both perfectly.

That moment of pause was enough for the Prince, who quickly mastered himself, once again overturning their position: kicking off his ankle boots, he took off his gloves as he grabbed Goku's shirt, tearing up his ridiculous uniform at chest height , to then break it completely. Each time he couldn't help but destroy it: it was pathetic, unbearable, light years away from the battle-suits Saiyan used to wear.

He lowered himself on his chest, covering him with small bites, while his hand went to slip under Goku's pants, meeting his erection, ready as his own. A moan of pleasure reached his ears, making him miss a beat: Goku had no problem letting himself go, enjoying things for what they were, without anxiety or resentment. In the last bite he lifted his face, seeing the blissful expression Goku had, with his eyes closed, in a smile. He felt his stomach twist at the idea that he could never have that serenity, and in reflecting on the fact that Goku trusted him so much that he didn't oppose, he didn't stay on guard.

The bites turned into kisses as he climbed up towards his neck, and he began to give him pleasure, moving his hand along its entire length, being careful to regulate the force: even in this he envied Goku; he was better at bed, he could hold off power and instinct with ease, while Vegeta always had to restrain himself, looking for the right path in the balance between pain and pleasure, always biased towards suffering.

Goku put his arm around him, in a soft and spontaneous grasp and the Prince violently blushed, hiding the face under Goku's chin, sending his thick hair to curl Goku's nose, aroused by that hair that was always the same, ever since he had known him.

Saiyan hair never grows, he had once told him. Only one of the thousand things he had taught him about himself, about them.

A surge of gratitude, respect and a lot of other feelings caught him, lowering his hand to the warrior's abdominals, until he met his erection again. He wanted him happy. He wanted, for once, to make Vegeta simply happy with him, for him, without trauma or resentment. For once he wanted to be the cause of something else besides rivalry, anger and hatred.

Hate.

It was so long since he told him. "I hate you". A shiver ran down his spine in memory of the few moments before. Vegeta didn't notice, too focused on not slowing his pace, now that Goku had started another one.

A rare moment of peace, lost in those pants, while their minds were taken by different thoughts.

Vegeta swallowed as he looked at that face a few moments before serene, now furrowed by a wrinkle of worry, of tension, so unusual for Goku. What was it? What was he thinking about? Was it too rough, too rude? Was he going too fast?

He frowned at those thoughts, chasing them away: Goku had never complained on those occasions, as he hadn't. There their understanding, as well as in a clash, was tacit and mutual. They would never have doubted it, but neither would they have admitted it. Goku not to mortify him, Vegeta because ... he was Vegeta.

So what was that expression? He stopped, pulling his own hand out of his pants, placing it to the side of Goku's face, on the ground.

"What is it?" he stared at him. It was an order, not a request.

Even Goku stopped, surprised: had he let slip a revealing expression? Vegeta had noticed it, though ... even at a time like this, he could observe him, concentrate on him, understand him without words.

So selfish in life, so generous in those moments.

"No-nothing ..." Goku replied, awed. He could never tell him what he thought. What should Vegeta have to answer him after all? No, I don't hate you? Yes, I hate you?

He would never put him in such a situation.

But the Prince did not seem to agree, lowering himself on him, making their sexes touch in a casual movement, which however caused both of them a strong electric shock. He pressed his forehead to hims, pinning him down with his body and his eyes.

"Don't tell me crap, Kakaroth. I'm not as stupid as you ".

How to get out of it? Goku stared at him, swallowing. He didn't have the skill to invent lies or shortcuts, so he said the first thing that came to mind, looking at those furious obsidian eyes.

"You're beautiful," he said candidly, as only he could do.

It wasn't a lie after all.

It had worked: Vegeta was displaced, while the blush came back quickly to make his cheeks flush. That idiot!

Goku smiled, holding back a victory motion, as he held him again, kissing him, still catching him off guard: he always succeeded, spontaneity was nothing that Vegeta could foresee or calculate.

For once the Prince was grateful to him: that kiss hid the showy blush that that phrase had revealed. Holding back from shaking his head, he let out a smirk, slipping his fingers into her absurd hair, squeezing them with need.

He could always fool him. To let him lower his guard, to give him another perspective.

Sometimes he was so tired of opposing it. Sometimes he just wanted to fall on him.

"Idiot..." he answered, late, without looking at him, still with his hands in his hair, his mouth on hims.

He needed him more than he could ever admit. He was the only one able to heal him from the wounds that the same Goku had inflicted on him. Illness and medicine together. Or maybe it was just medicine, and the disease was himself.

Vegeta felt himself slowly overturn, without violence, finding Goku above him, in the umpteenth exchange; the younger Saiyan slip down again, caressing the Prince's perfect body with his mouth, fingers, tongue, slipping on his abdominals, finally freeing him of the overalls that had remained on his knees.

He did not stop where Vegeta expected, however, coming down further, barely lifting his legs, blocking it with an arm placed under both knees: he licked it deeply, lubricating his most intimate and hidden, slightly dilated part.

"... Bastard! AH ! "the warrior covered his mouth, bending his free arm in a fist against the ground, before searching for Goku's head with his fingers, without getting there.

His face in flames, his heart gone mad, his muscles falling prey to spasms, his mind floundering between surrender and rebellion, in a toxic, inextinguishable and inevitable need for him.

He wanted him. He desired him in an insatiable and obsessive way, as he had always wanted him, as he had wanted an ungovernable and invincible power within himself.

How it was to have Goku within him. The first time he realized it.

That was going beyond the limits. Unite themselves, more deeply than any fusion could have granted them.

And Goku was winning again. Indeed, he had already won.

Vegeta raised himself on his back, grabbing Goku by the hair, bringing him to a whisker from his mouth, hissing at him with his broken voice, made hoarse by that continuous and meticulous movement of the tongue: "Come... COME ON, KAKAROTH! WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING? ".

Two pairs of black eyes looked at each other, different as Fire and Water, incompatible and indivisible.

Goku girded him, going up, while Vegeta arched up against him, squeezing him in return: they shouted in unison at the moment they unite, giving free rein to those feelings held back, hatched, who for a reason, who for another . Their auras became visible, unleashing more and more energy, enveloping them in a blinding golden light, while they loved each other in that dirty and desolate land, now blond, the color of the Sun.

Enemies. Rivals. Companions. Brothers. Lovers.

No term more than any other suited them. They were everything and the opposite of everything.

They loved each other several times, in various ways, until the day ended and the Sun left the space at sunset, waiting for the Moon.

That desolate land lived that day of their panting, their moans, that light that only they could bring to life together.

That is what Goku always wanted from Vegeta. That he understood how much they could have given, while he constantly divided them with insurmountable barriers of hatred, which seemed eternal.

Exhausted, panting in the dust, one on top of the other, black-haired again. Their hands were together, reddened by the spasmodic effort with which they had been held.

Goku squeezed him, no more cautiously, no longer afraid of rejection, feeling him at the limit of resistance, of tension, imperceptible but still present in Vegeta.

The Prince turned his face against the hollow of his neck, breathing that smell that only Goku had; he knew it by heart too. He breathed it as if it were the only air in the world, while his hands rose to caress his neck.

Again. It had happened again, inevitably.

His eyes were shining with effort, and he swallowed that sudden knot that was tightening his throat.

He hated himself for this, he hated himself for the fact that he could not help wishing every time it happened, to live it in a natural way, as if their destiny was to fight, meet, unite.

Destiny. Yes, it was written in Destiny that they met.

Both saved by the extinction of their own race, survived every sort of enemy and battle, only to find themselves on this Earth, one inside the life of the other.

Vegeta looked at him sideways: his natural serene and blissful look mixed with a total exhaustion and abandonment. He reminded him when Goku often threw himself on the ground after the defeat of a powerful adversary, in the umpteenth salvation of the Earth.

That thought made him gulp something inside. Defeat was the word that resounded in his head, but he could not erase the mixture of emotions that still pulsed inside him. He could no longer oppose him with the strength he once had, this was the truth.

They were more and more times when he surrendered, although this word could become part of Vegeta's vocabulary. Without even realizing it Vegeta started to gave him more than he had ever given him in the past: if he thought that at the beginning, he couldn't even be touched ...

That same embrace in which he was confined would have been unthinkable years before.

He held his breath, with his lungs full of him, his fingers closed in his hair, like closing himself in that tight, fleeing from his thoughts, from those feelings of guilt, that inferiority complex that came back to haunt him every moment.

That obsession named Goku had touched every possibility of existence, becoming part of him more than his true nature as a Saiyan. It was carved inside. Turning into something else.

Goku was stroking him slowly, running his fingers over his scarred back, feeling his scars clearly under his fingertips, recognizing them one by one.

"What a cool treat, isn't it?" A rhetorical question, in enjoying that moment.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, noting once again the difference of their thoughts. Obsessive complexity against disarming simplicity.

He did not answer, rising, observing that naked figure abandoned on the ground, so familiar and at the same time atypical. Goku still kept his eyes closed, smiling and exhausted.

That was the best smile on the face of the Earth, he was sure. Not even the children had them so pure, simple, naive. Spontaneous, without shadows of anything else.

His smiles were always sarcastic or scornful grins, perhaps with Trunks alone he smiled heartily, without thinking.

Maybe even with him. He could not imagine that Goku remembered every time that Vegeta had stretched his lips in a serene, almost happy expression, but Goku had them all tattooed in his mind.

Vegeta didn't even notice that he was smiling now, at that precise moment, looking at him: Goku noticed it, though. Opening one eye he met Vegeta's expression, raising his hand to his face, caressing his cheek with a tiny pinch on his cheekbone.

It was like pressing a button: Vegeta frowned immediately, standing up and giving him his back, headed for the tank top flown into a corner, pushed by the wind of their auras.

"It was a while since we practiced this way," said Goku, his eyes to the sky, his hands behind his head.

Vegeta pursed his lips, in a sarcastic and contemptuous snort, putting on his undershirt, lowering it with a click: "And you call it training? Maybe we had trained instead of ... of ... "

Goku looked at him, as if waiting for him to say it. He was curious to know how he would express it, with what term, but the fear of hearing words of contempt pushed him to precede him, suggesting to him the only one that came to mind: "Make love?".

Vegeta turned white, turning toward him, staring at him. He couldn't have said that.

Where did that courage come from? How could he simply call it that?

How could he say that unmentionable truth like he was talking about something else?

Goku cleared his throat, explaining himself to that look difficult to sustain: "I feel something very similar in both cases, with you".

Another truth, less obvious, though. Vegeta himself had not noticed immediately that basically for them, fighting and loving each other was the same thing. Efforts, sensations, excitement, desire, were equaled only in those two cases, in those two moments.

Only two Saiyans could understand it.

His eyelids sagged, in a sigh, in a subdued, subtle laughter. It was his tacit consent, which Goku grinned with a smile.

"You must have taken it so hard that hit to your head ..." he said, brushing his damp hair with both hands, as if recomposing himself.

Goku didn't get up, without giving the impression of wanting to leave, lying on his back, recovering his strength with long breaths.

"It's not the same thing when I train with others ... Junior, Gohan, Ub ... Never was the same thing."

The umpteenth sentence to please him, yet another uncalculated, involuntary stab. That silence made him guess.

Vegeta immediately turned, going to retrieve the gloves, pulling them all the way in, with so much strength that he risked breaking them. Ub. Sure, as if.

That's true, it wasn't the same thing. He had left with that snotty crest kid, he had gone to train with him for an incalculable time. Then doing who knows what fucking else. No, that wasn't the same thing. He had never given the same time, the same space, the same credit to him.

Not after all he had done to be at his same level: hours, days, months, years spent trying to reach him; even selling himself to Babidi, everything, just to reach him. And Goku didn't even see that. He had never notice it, not even when he had hidden from Vegeta that he had reached the third level, to be able to use it in ... "most important occasions". But fuck off.

"Fuck you, Goku".

Goku barred his eyes, no longer seeing the sky in front of him, interrupting that series of regular breaths.

What?

"No, it wasn't. You disappeared, evaporated, training yourself with that miserable reincarnation of that fat pink man. You gave him something you know I always wanted. You never looked for me of your own free will for a real meeting, you ... You ... "he clenched his fists, lowering his head, grinding his teeth.

Here we are. Here we are. The moment has arrived. He would have vomited all his hatred, his contempt on him. Everything would come back as before. They would have re-established the roles.

He would reinforce the "I hate you" statement of the begin, nullified by all that came later.

He would tell him he was an idiot, an unworthy, a traitor, a coward, a cheat; all that jealousy could have suggested to him, in the hope that it really wasn't the same thing between him and the others, that such moments were only between them and so it would always have been.

He would have done it, he would have really done it, if it hadn't happened what he shouldn't have allowed to happen.

"How did you call me?" Goku asked in a whisper, unable to believe, now standing.

Vegeta frowned, not understanding. What did he say? What…

Goku. He had called him Goku.

NO! He closed his mouth with his own hands, with force, as if to push back that simple, single word, the last barrier, the one he had never managed to break down, the only victory, the last bastion that Vegeta could still boast.

NO! He couldn't have done it! He cursed himself a thousand times, in desperation, quickly realizing that it was the first time he had called him by name. He couldn't even have that satisfaction, no! He couldn't have let it go! The habit of thinking him in his mind with that name had won against his obstinacy in calling him by his Saiyan's name, Kakaroth.

He had lost again, again. But he could deny it. Yes, he had to.

"N-no ... I don't have ..." he turned, on his guard again, on the defensive, his heart pounding furiously in his chest, the breath fighting to get out. Goku was approaching him, with an expression he could swear he had never seen, that he could not interpret.

"STAY AWAY! AWAY, KAKAROTH! I KILL YOU IF YOU APPROACH AGAIN! DO ANOTHER STEP AND I KILL YOU! I SWEAR IT, I SWEAR IT ON MY HON..." one second, and Goku was on his lips, pulling him to himself in a tight embrace, which nullified Vegeta's defense, forced with his arms along his body. The Prince stared, in a moan of opposition, trying to get away from him, to push him away, to turn his face away. He bit it, as hard as he could, opening more gashes on his lips; he scratched Goku's back, feeling his skin being torn away from his fingers; he wriggled into that grip that didn't let him go, held him tight, accepting every torture, every pain.

Goku stopped kissing him, his lips smeared with blood, rising with his mouth to Vegeta's temples, to his forehead, to his closed eyelid, kissing them softly while his rival's voice rose, the pressure of his hands on his chest increased.

"FUCK, LEAVE ME! DON'T TOUCH ME, GET AWAY! GO TO YOUR IDIOT WIFE, TO THAT FUCKING NIGGER! SPREAD, GET OUT, OR I... "

Not even that word could correct that terrible oversight, that admission that was greater than any offense. Maybe that's why he didn't say it. Maybe that's why he gave up again: because that mouth was too soft, that body too hot, that embrace the only thing he wanted at that moment on earth. He had to cure him again.

The scratches on his back turned into a clinging, while his forehead rested on his shoulder, hiding from him all that was left, entrusting him with all that was left.

Goku breathed in his hair, his hands overlapping the end of his back, softening the embrace even as Vegeta tightened it.

He could feel him holding his breath against him, he felt his heartbeat that was about to explode. He simply felt him in everything he was.

He enjoyed that moment, not knowing if it would come back, feeding on what he knew was the best Vegeta. He laid his cheek on his neck, as if they were lulling each other, before lowering to the ground, without letting him go.

Goku put his hand in Vegeta's hair, making it lift just enough to meet his gaze, frowning, uncomfortable; the mouth bent into a grimace of insecurity and disturbance.

Goku knew it, he knew it had cost him so much. And Vegeta knew that that simple name had made Goku happier than it would have been natural to think.

"Much better than Kakaroth, isn't it?" He asked, rubbing salt nonchalantly into the wound, knowing that he had crossed the threshold of mortal danger.

The Prince, in fact, merely gritted his teeth, blushing: "I don't know what you're talking about."

He would not spoil him more than he was already doing. And anyway both names were pretty idiotic.

Goku complied with his pretending nothing, kissing him again, unable to take off that smile from himself: it would probably never have happened again, and he would not have missed that unique moment in the world.

A loud gurgling in the stomach interrupted that noisy silence, causing both of them to look down at Goku's still naked belly.

"Pffr ..." was the comment of Vegeta, who rolled his eyes, ironic, with a grin.

Immediately his stomach gurgled even more loudly.

The smile disappeared from his face as he saw Goku's amused smile.

"Shut up".

"I say nothing!"

Vegeta put the cheek on his chest, inhaling slowly.

They were about to leave.

He back to Bulma, he back to Chichi. In this, at least, he had won: Bulma was more beautiful, funny, alert, understanding. But at that moment he didn't care.

He could only think that this rare moment was over. And that probably interested him more than Goku. He knew that for his part there was not the same waiting, the same spasm in craving for another training, only the two of them.

He knew it wasn't the same thing. He needed Goku more than the Saiyan needed him. And this awareness destroyed him, along with the thousand others he was forced to calculate when it came to him.

"Let's stay here" was Goku talking, halfway between a request and a decision.

Vegeta did not answer for a while: the foolish doubt that this turniphead could read his mind had gripped him.

"You will die of hunger," he replied, twisting his lips and closing his eyes, still leaning against his chest, in a self-abandonment he hadn't even noticed.

"No," he replied, with a smile, brushing the end of his back again, causing him to shudder.

Vegeta blushed, opening his eyes: did that idiot even know how to do double meanings? Or was he the one who had read that "no" in a precise way?

His eyes narrowed as Goku squeezed him better.

"Whatever" He agreed, brusquely, pretending indifference. He didn't want to do anything else but sleep on him, for hours, days, lives.

Goku deepened his smile, relaxed, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you, Vegeta".

The Prince had his ears full of his pulse; it were lulling him, bringing him into a deep torpor. It was not the first time he fell asleep like this.

He shook it in turn, managing to think of only two words, which reverberated in his head, rebellious and ungovernable, warm and reassuring.

Thanks, Goku.


End file.
